Stories and Pictures Part 62

It descends with fury on the lamps in the street, but they remain erect like hero-sages at the time of the Inquisition.

It sweeps down on the pavement, but the flags are set deep in the earth, and the earth does not let go of her dwellers so easily. Then he raises himself in anger up, up into the height, but the heavens are far, and the stars look down with indifference--or amus.e.m.e.nt.

The pa.s.sers in the street bend and bow themselves and huddle together to take up as little room as possible, turn round to catch their breath, and pursue their certain way.

But the poor, helpless little boy, I think of him with terror, what will become of _him_?

All my philosophy has deserted me, and all my pity is awake.

If it were _my_ child? If I thought my own flesh and blood were in the grip of this wind? If _my_ child were roaming the streets to-night? If, even supposing that later on he had managed to beg a groschen, he were going, in this hurricane, toward Praga[138]--over the Vistula, over the bridge?

And just because he is _not_ mine, is he any the less deserving? Does he feel the wind less, s.h.i.+ver the less with cold, because _his_ parents are lying somewhere in a grave under a tombstone? I lose all inclination to go home. I feel as if I had no right to a warm room, to the boiling samovar, to the soft bed and, above all, to the smile of those who are awaiting me.

It seems to me that "murderer" or some such word must be written on my forehead, that I have no business to be seen by anyone.

And once more I begin to think about "piousness."

"Why the devil am not I 'pious'?" I mutter. "Why need I have been the worse for believing that the One who dwells high above all the stars, high above the heavens, never lets our world out of His sight for a single instant? That not for a single instant will He forget the little boy? Why need he lie so heavy on my heart? Why cannot I leave him frankly and freely to the great heart of the universe? He would trouble me no more, I should feel him safe under the great eye of the cosmos--the eye, which, should it withdraw itself for an instant, leaves whole worlds a prey to the devil; the eye which, so long as it is open, a.s.sures to the least worm its maintenance and its right? As it is, I, with my sick chest, and my wet feet, and in this weather, must go back to the soup-kitchen and _look_ for that little boy. It is a disgrace and a shame!"

Wherein the shame and the disgrace consisted, why and before whom I felt ashamed, to this day I do not know. And yet, on account of the shame and the disgrace, I did not take the shortest way back to the soup-kitchen, but I went round by several streets.

At last I arrived.

The first room, the dining-room, was empty.

The Gehenna of day-time is cooling down, the steam rises higher and higher from the damp floor, and creates a new "heaven" and a new "firmament" between the waters below (from off the feet of the poor people) and the waters above (the drops formed by the vapor). Here and there the drops come raining through.

Thanks to a little window, I can see into the kitchen.

The drowsy cook with the untidy head leans with her left hand on the great kettle and lifts the big soup-spoon lazily to her mouth.

The second, the kitchen-maid, is shredding macaroni for to-morrow noon.

She, too, looks sleepy. The superintendent is counting meal tickets distributed by the committee.

There is no one else visible. I cast a look under the tables--no trace of the little boy. I am too late!

"But at least," I think, as I leave the kitchen, "n.o.body saw me!"

Suddenly I remember that I have been walking the streets for several hours.

Whatever is the matter with me? I mutter, and begin to pace homeward.

I am quite glad to find everyone asleep.

I throw off my goloshes in the entrance, steal up to my room and into bed.

But I had a bad night. Tired out, chilled, and wet through, it was long before I ceased coughing and got warm--a continual s.h.i.+ver ran through my bones. I did not get really to sleep till late in the morning, and then my dreams began to torment me in earnest.

I started out of sleep bathed in cold perspiration, sprang out of bed, and went to the window. I look out; the sky is full of stars--the stars look like diamonds set in iron--they roll on so proudly, so calmly, and so high.

There is a tearing wind blowing at the back--the whole house shakes.

I went back to bed, but I slept no more, I only dozed. My dreams were broken, but the little boy was the centre of them all.

Every time I saw him in a new place: there he lies asleep out in the street--there he crouches on some steps in an archway--once, even, devils are playing ball with him--he flies from hand to hand through the air--later on I come across him lying frozen in a rubbish-box.

I held out till morning and then I flew to the soup-kitchen.

He is there!

Had I not been ashamed, I should have washed the grime off his face with tears of thankfulness. Had I not been afraid of my wife, I should have led him home as my own child. He is there--I am _not_ his murderer!

Well!

And I held out a ten kopek piece.

He takes it wondering; he does not know what a kindness he has done me.

Long life to him!

And next day, when he begged me for another groschen, I did _not_ give it him, but this time I uttered no word of reproof--what is more, I went away ashamed, not satisfied with myself.

I can really and truly not afford it, but my heart is sore: why can I not afford it?

My grandfather, on whom be peace, was not so far wrong when he used to say:

"Whoever is not pious, lives in sorrow of heart and dies without consolation."

XXIV

UNDERGROUND

A big underground lodging room full of beds.

Freude, the tatterdemalion, has been asleep for some time on her chest, in her corner between the stove and the wall.

To-day she went to bed early, because to-morrow is fair-day in a neighboring town, and she will have to be astir betimes in order to drive there with the grease. But she lies uneasy--there is trouble and worry in store.

She had arranged with the driver to take her, Freude, and the _small_ barrel, and now, just as she was going to sleep, it occurred to her that it would be better to take the big one.

She tosses from side to side on her couch.